


Just Business

by lancethewriter



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Athenril runs a smuggling company, F/F, Isabela is still sus, Kirkwall is a regular ole city, Modern AU, Modern Thedas, more ships will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancethewriter/pseuds/lancethewriter
Summary: Marian Hawke leads an uninteresting life. Well, that's how it seems to her, at least. Most people wouldn't call working for a renowned smuggling organization "uninteresting". But Hawke finds it to be exceptionally dull. When Athenril sends her to investigate a client gone dark, she expects it to be just like any other job. Little does she know, her life is about to get a lot more exciting thanks to a certain sultry sailor called Isabela.-Modern AU F!Hawke/Isabela





	Just Business

**Author's Note:**

> Just trying to test the waters here and see if anyone's interested. But I really hope people are, because I'm excited.

The morning sun brought a gentle swath of light into the bedroom, peeking through a place where the curtains failed to meet. Hawke groaned and rolled over, pulling the comforter over her eyes and taking a moment to resume her slumber. Seconds passed, and she lazily blinked her eyes open as her mind raced to procure her responsibilities for the day. What even is the time? she wondered, and a hand blindly probed the bedside table for her phone. Fingers curled around the skin device and she pulled it to her, gazing at the home screen. It took a minute, but eventually she registered the details. 

“Sweet Maker!” Hawke exclaimed, flinging the blankets aside and scrambling out of the bed. “Athenril is going to kill me.”

She hurriedly pulled on a long-sleeved tee and some black leggings before throwing her leather necklace over her head. The Amell crest swung back and forth, and she tucked the metal piece behind her shirt. Taking a moment to fix her hair in the bathroom mirror, she gave herself a second to breathe. 

“Okay. Time to go.”

She really hated Thursdays.

Marian Hawke had a job working for Athenril down at the Docks, where she took on various assignments. Athenril was the owner of a prominent shipping company that doubled as a smuggling operation, and she paid Hawke to take care of the less glamorous tasks. That could be anything from moving cargo to dealing uncooperative ‘business associates’ (to put it lightly). It wasn’t pretty -or, at times, legal- but it paid the bills. 

She slipped out of her Lowtown apartment, setting out at a brisk walk towards the stairs. Her home was located on the third floor, so waiting for an elevator was a waste of time. A brief sensation of relief washed over her when she was met with a gentle, spring breeze, but rather than tarry further, she kept moving towards the parking lot. 

She supposed it would have been smart to keep her bike in a more secure location, but she could hardly afford such a thing, so the motorcycle remained hidden in an alley between apartment complexes. She slipped the helmet over her head and pushed the key into the ignition. 

“Maker, I’m so late,” she muttered to herself, beginning her typical route to the Docks. As she passed a local convenience store, she wondered if she could manage a trip to Hightown after work to snag some groceries. That was, if Athenril didn’t keep her too long. 

She arrived at the warehouse around 9:30, pulling into her usual spot and making haste to her boss’s office. When she entered, she was met with an icy glare that caused her to falter. 

“I expected you here two hours ago,” Athenril deadpanned, her tone indifferent but her eyes stone cold. “You’re late, Hawke.”

Hawke fumbled for words, barely finding the nerve to speak. Not many people intimidated her, but the lanky, slender woman that was her boss was one such person. She shrugged innocently, trying as best she could to appeal to her sympathetic side. “I forgot to set my alarm?” Her excuse came out as more of a question than a statement, and she cringed. 

“Don’t let it happen again.” At Hawke’s expression of dread, Athenril slipped into a weary smile. “You’re fine, just do better next time. I can’t be mad at you, anyway.”

Hawke released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, and she flashed a grin. “What, is it my natural charm?”

The other woman shook her head and gestured to a folder on her desk. “Don’t get cocky. I have a job for you.”

“Oh. Right.” She placed her hands on her hips, leaning forward to examine the documents. “What do you need?”

“One of our contacts went dark,” she explained, pointing to a name on the file. “I think he’s holding out on us, so I’m hoping you could head over and talk some sense into him.”

Hawke nodded, regarding the task with a degree of confidence. “So this… Castillon fellow. What’s he to us?”

“He’s got some goods of ours,” Athenril noted rather vaguely. “And he’s withholding money from an agreement. Just let him know that he owes me.”

She gave another nod, offering a casual salute. “Will do, ma’am.”

Athenril handed her the folder, but kept a firm grasp on the edge. “Like I said, don’t get cocky. He may have some hired help, so watch your back.” After giving her words of advice, she relinquished the file, and Hawke retreated from the office. 

“Well, that could have gone a lot worse,” she admitted, flipping open the folder. As it turned out, it contained only two pages. One possessed a rather low-quality picture of who she assumed to be Castillon, and the other detailed his habits and frequent locations. 

A quick skim revealed that the guy tended to stick around the Hanged Man and another Docks warehouse quite a lot, and she figured it was much too early for drinks. Apparently, Castillon was at the head of a similar underground organization, though the file was very careful to not mention exactly what it was. He was also the CEO of an esteemed Antivan manufacturing company, which could potentially be something to exploit. Hawke shrugged to herself as she tucked the file away and climbed onto her bike, beginning the short drive to the warehouse at another part of the waterfront. 

Once she arrived at the location, she spent a good half hour or so snooping around the property, checking for unlocked doors or any sign that somebody might be inside. The space was devoid of any vehicles, both in the front and back, though Hawke managed to find a window with a particularly good vantage point. 

She cupped her hands around her eyes to shield the sun, and she peered inside, pressing her hands against the glass. There was nobody inside the warehouse, that much was clear. In fact, it was practically empty, save for a few stray boxes and wooden shipping crates. It wasn’t her place to break in to check it out, so she decided to leave things as they were and return later. 

She had some time to kill before it would be acceptable show up at the Hanged Man, so she drove to an empty lot at the edge of Lowtown and pulled out her phone. She shot a text to her younger sister Bethany:

'H: Hey, Beth, anybody home right now?'

The reply came within a few minutes. 

'B: yeah, what’s up?'

'H: Just wanted to stop by and hang out while I do some work. Cool?'

'B: always happy to see you'

'B: Carver’s out with friends tho'

She chuckled at that. Carver Hawke was never one to look up to his older sister; they didn’t get along much, and often butt heads, but she loved him just the same. In fact, most of the money she earned went towards getting the twins and her mother out of Lowtown. She had only moved into her own apartment once she started working for Athenril, since she didn’t want any illicit activities to be traced back to the Hawke family. She missed them. 

About twenty minutes later, Hawke walked through the door of her family’s dilapidated home. The living room reeked of booze and air freshener, and she breathed it in with a sigh. “Hey Ma!” she called, padding into the kitchen. Scrambling footsteps sounded somewhere in the house, and she was soon crushed under ninety pounds of dog. 

Hawke struggled to push away the giant pitbull-mastiff mutt. “Move, Peanut, you oaf.” She sat up from her position on the floor and scratched the dog behind the ears. “That’s a good boy.”

“Marian!” Bethany bounded into the room with a force to rival the dog’s; it seemed that both were equally excited to see her. 

She pushed herself to her feet to embrace her sister, who patted Peanut on the head. “I’m really glad you decided to stop by. I think he is, too.”

“Is Mom home?”

Bethany shrugged, offering a helpless look. “I think she and Gamlen went somewhere. But I dunno.”

“That’s fine.” Hawke nodded and made her way back to the living room, which housed the ancient desktop computer. 

Bethany followed her as she logged on, gazing over her shoulder and leaning on the back of her chair. “So, what are you working on?”

“Just profiling a client,” Hawke said, leaning back to give an air of nonchalance. She wasn’t entirely honest about her living, and she thought it best that her family remain unaware of how she spent her days. They didn’t need to know where the money came from. 

“Sounds fun. I hope you get what you’re looking for.” 

“Me too, Bethany.” Hawke looked up at her and gave a smile. “What have you been up to, recently?”

Bethany sat in the recliner that was nearby, seemingly grateful to have someone to talk to. “Not much, really. School’s been kicking my ass, though.”

Hawke snorted. “You sound like Carver.”

“Do I?”

“You sound exhausted, too.” 

Her sister gave a slow, acknowledging nod. “I’d take a nap, but I wanted to spend some time with you.”

Hawke stared at her sister for a solid five seconds before answering. She let out a wistful sigh and smiled. “I’ll tell you what, Beth. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to grab a bite to eat somewhere. You go get your rest, and we’ll catch up tomorrow, okay?”

At the suggestion, Bethany’s face lit up. Hawke almost melted seeing her baby sister so excited. Work be damned, she really shouldn’t have been spending so much time away from her family. 

“This is why we’re sisters.” Bethany embraced her tightly, and Hawke couldn’t help but laugh heartily. 

“Are you sure it’s not because of, I don’t know, Mom and Dad?”

“Nope.”

Hawke ruffled her hair affectionately, though Bethany tried to duck away. “Get some sleep, kid. Or do whatever you spend so much time on in your room.”

After Bethany left, Hawke returned to her duties. The family desktop was old, slow, and generally a pain in the ass, but it was reliable and it got the job done. She searched the name of Castillon’s business, called “Antivan Exports”. Entirely unoriginal, but thankfully easy to remember. The company apparently produced a variety of goods - from carpets to clothing to calculators, they seemed to make everything. A glance at the company’s website told her that they had a retail location in Kirkwall. Interesting. 

There wasn’t much else she needed to do. “Maybe if I’m lucky,” she mused aloud, “Castillon could show up for some early drinking.” 

Thus began the trip to the Hanged Man, conveniently located in Lowtown. Once she was standing at the bar’s front door, she considered calling Varric. He was, after all, a frequent visitor. She shook her head, mentally chiding herself. She was perfectly capable of handling things on her own.

Inside, the establishment was more or less what she expected it to be: a run-down hole in the wall filled with suspicious-looking patrons. Hawke approached the bar, confidence in her steps, and knocked on the counter to get the bartender’s attention.

The man turned around and moved over to her. “What can I get for ya?”

“Just a glass of water, please.”

He shrugged and fulfilled her request, filling a plastic cup from the tap. “Anything else?”

Hawke pretended to deliberately consider the question. “Actually, I’m looking for a friend of mine. He was supposed to meet me here today.”

He raised an eyebrow, but his eyes showed a clear interest. “A friend, eh? Can I help you find him, then?”

She nodded. “His name’s Castillon.”

At that, the man barked a laugh. “I’d say you got stood up. He’ll probably be slinking in some time soon, though. He keeps a room in the back.”

Hawke gave another nod in thanks. “I appreciate it.”

Before either of them could continue the conversation further, another woman stepped up to the bar. She slid an empty cup towards the man and whistled at him. 

“Hey, Corff, care to get a girl another round?”

Corff, as his name seemed to be, was quick to oblige. He mixed a few different things together and poured the woman another drink. “Anything for you.”

The woman saluted him before turning her attention to Hawke. “Say, what’s a girl like you doing here at this hour?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re clearly not here for drinks.” She gestured with her cup to Hawke’s water. 

“I’m looking for a friend.”

“So I’ve heard.” She jerked a thumb over at Corff. “You’re looking for Castillon, yeah?”

Hawke raised an eyebrow, suspicious yet hopeful. “You know him?”

The woman laughed. “Know him? I’ve got a key to his room, so I’d say I know him.” 

“Is he back there right now?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Probably not. But I’ll take you there and we can wait for him, hm? Have a chat, share a drink?”

At the woman’s lewd stare, Hawke felt her face flush with color. She composed herself quickly and nodded slightly. “That would be great.” 

“Then follow me.” She winked, and Hawke’s legs were moving before she even realized it. Athenril’s warning popped into her head for a brief moment, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived. There couldn’t possibly be any ill intentions involved. 

“So, how’d you meet our mutual friend?”

Great. Small talk. “We’re more like business associates, actually. I’m just looking to buy something, and he can provide.”

There was a gleam in the woman’s eye at that. “Something, you say? Don’t tell me it’s anything… illicit.”

Hawke huffed out a laugh. “You don’t seem like a stranger anything of that sort. But no, it’s not.”

As Hawke was led away from the bar and down a hallway leading to the private rooms, a sense of apprehension settled in her gut. The woman paused in front of a door and pulled out a key, raising an eyebrow.  
“Is he in there right now?” Hawke asked, fighting the uneasy feeling that was taking root. “Castillon, that is.”

“Well, probably not.” A mischievous grin spread across her face and turned into a stare that made Hawke shiver. “But I think we could wait for him inside, you know, get better acquainted. What do you say to that, sweet thing?”

“Sounds alright to me.” Maker, this was a terrible idea. She knew that, but she was hardly opposed. “I’m Hawke. You?”

The woman unlocked the door with a flourish, holding it open. “Isabela. But-”, another wink, and Hawke swallowed thickly, “-you can call me whatever you like.” 

Slowly, and with a fair bit of hesitation, she stepped into the poorly-lit room. The lights flicked on as Isabela followed her inside.

The door clicked shut, and Hawke felt a knife at her throat.

"Well, shit."

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know your thoughts! would you like to see more, what other ships do you want to see, etc. <3


End file.
